


Walking in the Air

by parenthetical



Category: Supernatural, The Snowman (1982)
Genre: Christmas, Crossover, Gen, Pre-Series, Snowman, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-24
Updated: 2006-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical/pseuds/parenthetical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never mind the fact that they've been kidnapped by freaking Frosty. Dean's real worry is whether he and Sammy can get back to the motel before their father comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover with _[The Snowman](http://www.thesnowman.co.uk/)_, but you don't need to have seen that to follow this.

"We're supposed to stay indoors, Sammy," Dean said quietly, coming to stand next to his brother.

Sammy had been kneeling on a chair pulled up against the motel window for almost an hour now, gazing out wide-eyed at the snow. He glanced sideways at Dean as he spoke, then carried on staring out the window.

Dean gnawed on his lip. They weren't supposed to leave the motel room while Dad was gone. He'd drilled Dean on that a thousand times or more. _Stay indoors, don't answer the door or the phone, watch out for Sammy._ Dean knew the drill. Dad had promised, before he'd left late the previous night, that he would only be gone one full day, and would be back first thing Christmas morning. Tomorrow morning.

Dean had promised to follow orders, and hadn't expected to have any trouble doing so. This was hardly the first time their father had left them in the motel for a few days. Sammy was mostly content to play with Dean, and at nearly five - always _nearly five_, now, if you asked him his age, never _four - _he was old enough to be fun to play with and not too much trouble to look after. And when Dean said _we have to stay inside till Dad comes back, Sammy_, his little brother accepted that and they played another game.

But they'd woken up that morning to find the ugly motel car park vanished beneath glittering snow. Sammy had been entranced ever since, and Dean figured that maybe Sammy couldn't remember ever seeing snow before. They'd been down south last winter, and the Christmas before that had been in California. Sammy had seen snow when he was a baby, of course, but Sammy didn't remember many of the things that had happened when he was a baby.

Dean watched Sammy pressing his forehead against the window, even though the glass had to be cold, and reached a decision.

He returned to Sammy's side a minute later, holding out his little brother's shoes.

Sammy turned wide eyes on him, and Dean grinned. "Gotta put your shoes on if we're gonna go out in the snow."

Sammy squealed in excitement and flung his arms around Dean's neck for a hug, and Dean laughed and passed Sammy the shoes, checking to make sure his brother tied the laces properly, although Sammy had gotten good at knots recently. Then he had to get Sammy to stop hopping around long enough to put on an extra sweater, his coat, gloves, scarf and hat, because Sammy wasn't used to the cold and it was Dean's job to make sure he didn't freeze. When Dean had finished wrapping him up, Sammy was a chubby bundle, eyes sparkling beneath the brown hat pulled low over his forehead, mouth beaming above his bright red scarf.

There was another delay while Dean pulled on his own warm clothes and gathered supplies. It didn't look dangerous outside - it was Christmas Eve and the motel was deserted apart from them and the owner right up at the far end; there weren't even any tracks in the snow - but Dean knew better than most that just because you couldn't see a threat, that didn't mean it wasn't there. So he stuffed a large bag of rock salt into one pocket and a small bottle of holy water into another. He debated for a long moment whether or not to take a gun; Dad had been teaching him to shoot for a long time now, and he was good, but he wasn't really meant to use one if Dad wasn't there. Besides, they were just going out in the snow for a while. Mind made up, Dean grabbed a lighter and an extra bag of rock salt instead and crammed them into his pockets.

"Ready?" he asked Sammy.

Sammy was still bouncing up and down in excitement. "Ready!" he exclaimed.

"You gotta stick close when we go out there, okay?" Dean said anxiously. He was a bit nervous about venturing outside, not liking to think what their father would say if he found out. And he knew his father was right, that was the thing - they were taking a risk. "Don't go running off without me. You gotta promise you'll stay right next to me, okay, Sammy?"

"Promise," Sammy said solemnly, obediently holding out one mitten-clad hand.

Dean took it and squeezed once. "Okay, let's go."

Outside, Sammy was a little overwhelmed by the snow to begin with, staring around wide-eyed, clutching tightly to Dean's hand. Dean encouraged him to stick out his tongue to catch snowflakes on it. Sammy went cross-eyed trying to look at his own tongue, then giggled at the tingling cold as a snowflake landed on it. Dean laughed.

After that, Sammy seemed to relax, although he kept his promise and stuck close to Dean. They jumped about making footprints in the snow, and Dean told his brother about tracking monsters, pointed out the differences between Sammy's little footprints and Dean's bigger ones. Sammy jumped from one set of footprints to another and went down hard, but he came up giggling and Dean took a deep breath and let his flash of panic slip away.

They made snowballs, and Dean tried to get Sam to hit specific fence posts out behind the back of the motel, because target practice was something you could never start too early, that was what Dad always said. Sammy was giggling and silly, but he got better as they practiced and when their last snowballs hit the fencepost right next to each other they both did a little victory dance, slipping a little on the ground where they'd trampled the snow, grabbing at each other for balance.

As the afternoon wore on, Dean slowly relaxed his guard and simply enjoyed playing in the snow with his brother. Unlike Sammy, Dean could remember playing in the snow before, though it had been a long time ago. Back in Kansas, the last year before everything had changed, Dean had played outside in the snow, and after an hour or two his dad had come out and helped him to build his first snowman. His first and, until now, his last, because Dean had never had a chance to build one since.

And Sammy had never had a chance to build one at all.

Dean wished that their dad was there to help them, because Dean had only done this once before. He wasn't sure he could make a good enough snowman without their dad's help, and he wanted Sammy's first snowman to be a good one. But he was going to try. He and Sammy together, they could do just about anything if they tried, Dean was sure of that.

Sammy got all excited when Dean suggested building a snowman; he'd seen pictures, even if he'd never had a chance to make one before. He carefully made a snowball and kept on adding more snow to it, then followed Dean's instructions and started rolling it along the ground to pick up more snow, his tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrated earnestly. Once the ball got a bit bigger, Dean joined in, helping to push it along. By the time they'd pushed it all the way along the side of the motel and back round to the parking lot, it was taller than Sammy and even together they were struggling to move it any further. They managed to push it to a point where Sammy would be able to see it from the window once they were back indoors, and then packed more snow on by hand.

The head was easier, though lifting it onto the body made Dean _oof_ a little. For a moment he was afraid it was going to roll right off again, but then he got it settled and packed a bit more snow around it to secure it.

"Face!" Sammy shouted eagerly, bouncing a little with excitement. "Do the face now, Dean!"

"We need stones or something," Dean told him. "For the eyes and nose. Come on, let's go look."

Sammy was reluctant to leave the snowman's side for a moment, as if worried it would vanish if he took his eyes off it, but Dean took his hand and he followed along willingly enough. They buried down into the snow around the side of the motel until they found some stones that met with Dean's approval. Dean let Sammy put on the stones that represented buttons while he stretched up to put on the eyes and nose. Then he lifted Sammy up so that Sammy could draw a crooked smile with one finger. That made him _oof_ too - his baby brother was heavy these days - but the delighted grin on Sammy's face made it worthwhile.

"Clothes!" Sammy demanded. "Needs clothes."

Dean bit his lip. They didn't have spare hats or scarves for a snowman. But Sammy's face was so expectant and beaming... Dean reached up and carefully started to unwind his own scarf. "Okay, but after this we gotta go back inside."

He was shivering slightly by the time he'd balanced his hat on the snowman's head and wrapped his scarf around its 'neck', but it looked _complete _now in a way it hadn't before; it looked like a _proper_ snowman, and Sammy was laughing in delight and clapping his hands together, the sound muffled by his mittens.

Dean grinned at the snowman and at his little brother, and thought that even though Dad hadn't been there, Sammy's first snowman had still turned out real good.

***

Coaxing Sammy into going to bed that evening took some work. He'd spent most of the rest of the day next to the window, watching their snowman across the parking lot. Dean had managed to get him to take a hot bath to warm up again, but after drying himself off and putting on the pajamas Dean passed him, Sammy had rushed straight to the window to check that the snowman was still there.

Eventually, however, Sammy was tucked in warmly, and Dean quietly made his rounds, checking the salt lines, making sure the shotgun was still propped safely in the corner, double-checking that the door was locked. Finally satisfied, he crawled into bed beside Sammy and let himself doze off.

It was probably the cold that woke him, although it was the undefinable sense of _something wrong where's Sammy_ that forced his eyes wide and made him sit up.

Sammy was over at the door and _fumbling with the keys in the lock_, oh _Jesus_.

Dean was out of bed and across the room before his mind had even caught up with what he was seeing. "Sammy, _no_!"

Sammy abandoned the key and turned to look at him, eyes wide.

"Sammy, you don't open the door, okay, not ever," Dean said, more sharply than he intended, his heart pounding. "And you don't ever try to go outside or anywhere without telling me, okay? Not _ever_, Sammy."

His little brother looked a little upset by Dean's tone, his lip quivering, and he nodded vigorously.

Dean took a deep breath and tried to calm down. It wasn't Sammy's fault. Sammy knew the rules and he had been told the reasons for them, but he was still just little and he didn't always _get _it. He hadn't seen all the things Dean had. That was why it was Dean's job to make sure Sammy stayed safe.

Right now, though, Sammy looked like he might start crying, so Dean sank down to his knees and hugged him tight, and Sammy hugged back fiercely, sniffling a little.

"What were you trying to do?" Dean asked after a moment. Best to sort it out before he tucked Sammy back into bed, he figured, because he _really_ didn't want to wake up to something like this again.

"Snowman wanna play," Sammy explained, pulling back to stare at Dean earnestly.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out again. "You can play with the snowman again in the morning, Sammy, okay?"

"_Noooooo_," Sammy exclaimed. "_Snowman_ wanna play."

"The snowman will wait until the morning," Dean said. "Maybe he wants to sleep, too."

"Not sleepin'," Sammy denied. "Saw him move. Please, Dean, pleeeeease? Real quick?"

Dean floundered in the face of Sammy's pleading expression. "Sammy... Okay, look, put your shoes and all your warm clothes on again, and we'll go outside so you can see the snowman's sleeping. But then we're coming right back inside and going to bed, okay?" Because although tugging on warm clothes, traipsing outside, and then coming back in and taking all the clothes off again was a hassle, it would be worth it if he could go to sleep afterwards without worrying that his little brother would try to leave the room again.

Sammy scurried to do as he was told, and Dean sighed and tugged on his own coat, gloves and shoes. His scarf and hat were still out on the snowman, and he made a mental note to grab them while he was out there. He wasn't sure how his father would react if he saw the snowman. Maybe he would remember the one they'd made, back in Kansas, and smile, and tell them they'd done a good job. Or maybe he would be angry that they'd gone outside, angry that Dean had left his own clothes out in the cold and wet for no good reason. Truth be told, Dean really wasn't sure which reaction was most likely. So the safest option would be to bring his scarf and hat back inside. That way, his father might believe some other kids had built the snowman.

Dean checked to make sure Sammy was properly wrapped up, then took his hand and opened the door.

It had stopped snowing for a while, at least, he thought, closing the door behind them to keep the heat in and tucking the key into his pocket beside all the stuff he'd crammed in there that afternoon and not bothered to remove. It was dark outside, but the snow gave the world an eerie glow despite the darkness.

Sammy was almost skipping a little as they crossed the parking lot towards the snowman, bouncing and happy, and Dean grinned down at him.

He figured later that that moment of distraction was why he didn't realize the snowman was moving until it was too late.

***

For a moment, Dean froze, because it was a _snowman_, and he'd never heard of them coming to life, it wasn't even something his father had ever warned him about.

The snowman turned around, sweeping Dean's own hat off its head and bowing low. Then it straightened up and extended one icy arm, as if wanting to shake hands.

Dean was jolted out of his paralysis and leapt back out of reach, shoving Sammy behind him so fast his little brother skidded slightly in the snow. His father might never have warned him about moving snowmen, but he'd taught Dean plenty about supernatural creatures in general.

_Don't invite them inside. Don't shake hands. Don't accept anything they offer you. Don't do anything that might give it power over you._

"Sammy, get back to the motel room!" he yelled.

"Dean!" Sammy wailed, sounding as though he was about to burst into tears, but Dean couldn't stop to comfort him; he simply grabbed his brother and ran for the door.

Oh god, why hadn't he listened to Sammy when he'd said the snowman had moved? Why had he agreed to go outside in the middle of the night? Why had he let Sammy come with him?

He fumbled with the keys, clutching tightly to Sammy with his other hand, and finally managed to get the door open and push Sammy inside, past the salt barrier.

When he turned around, the snowman had followed them across the parking lot and was only a couple of yards away.

Dean jumped back behind the salt line too.

The snowman moved forward and stuck out one arm towards them again.

"Wants to make friends," Sammy breathed, peering out from behind him.

Dean shot his arm out to make sure Sammy didn't slip past him.

"That's not what it wants," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the snowman. "Stay right here with me, okay?"

The snowman dropped its arm again, its mouth - the mouth he'd let Sammy draw with his own finger, god _damn_ it - twisting into a sad expression. And then it turned and started to shuffle slowly away across the parking lot.

Dean released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It was leaving. Sammy was safe.

Yeah, it was leaving. Maybe to find another little kid who was too young to know better and who would take its hand, invite it indoors, who knew? Dean had made it; it was his responsibility, and he realized abruptly that he couldn't just stand safely behind his salt lines and watch it lumber off after someone else's little brother.

"Sammy, you stay right here, okay?" Dean said urgently, grasping his brother by the shoulders and gazing intently into his eyes. "Don't cross the salt lines, you got that? Wait here, and I'll be right back."

Sammy's eyes were huge as he nodded solemnly, and Dean clapped him gently on the shoulder once and darted back outside.

"Hey! Frosty!" he yelled, rushing across the parking lot.

For a horrible moment, it looked like the snowman was going to just carry on and look for less wary kids elsewhere. Dean felt his heart speed up, but then the snowman turned and started back towards him, and he let out a sigh of relief. Good, it was coming after him.

...Oh.

He tried frantically to think of anything his dad had told him that would be useful against a _snowman_, but he was pretty much drawing a blank. Dad had told him about some weird things, and Dean had seen and experienced his own share of weirdness, but this was definitely a new one.

The snowman stopped just in front of him, and Dean had the horrible feeling that its stony eyes were sizing him up, somehow. Then it _smiled_ at him and extended its 'hand' again.

Well. What the hell. It was made of snow, right?

Dean kicked up against its arm, as hard as he could. He'd been learning to fight, and his dad had told him he was getting good. But _ow_, he'd forgotten how hard snow could be when it was all packed together. Kicking the snowman wasn't like kicking snow, or even a snowball, it was like kicking something hard and solid and unyielding. It also hurt like hell.

Perhaps it was just Dean's imagination, but the snowman didn't look too pleased. Dean kicked up again, but this time the snowman shoved at his foot as it hit, and Dean went down hard on the ground.

Okay, he was possibly in trouble here.

He scrambled hastily to his feet, backing off slightly and trying to think. He wished he had thought to bring the shotgun; enough bullets could probably tear even this freakish snowman to pieces.

"Dean!"

_Oh no,_ Dean thought. "Sammy, stay there!"

He was too late, though; Sammy was already rushing towards him. Dean should have expected that; Sammy was never happy to hang back if he thought Dean was in danger.

"Sammy, no!"

The snowman seized on his moment of distraction and grabbed Dean's wrist. Dean immediately tried to wrench himself free, but the snowman had an unnaturally strong grip. Before Dean could fight his way free, it turned and grabbed one of Sammy's little hands too.

_Oh god._

It's okay, Sammy, don't panic!" Dean called as reassuringly as he could. "I'm gonna -"

Before he could finish his sentence, the snowman began to run, picking up speed and pulling the two of them along with it.

It could move freakishly fast for a pile of snow. Dean tried not to yell - he didn't want to scare Sammy even more - but he fought as hard as he could, twisting and struggling to break free of the snowman's grasp. It didn't let go, just picked up even more speed. Dean thought half-hysterically that he was going to fall on his face at any moment because he couldn't keep up, and the snowman would just drag the two of them along like that.

When he lost his footing a moment later, though, he didn't hit the ground.

Instead, the snowman soared up into the air, taking Dean and Sammy with it.

***

Dean had always thought that flying would be the coolest thing ever. He avidly read superhero comics and imagined what it would be like if he could fly, jetting off to help his dad and rescue people who were in trouble. A few months earlier, his father had rashly mentioned that he was thinking of flying across the country with the two of them to help out a friend of his. Dean had been wildly excited at the thought of going on a plane and being able to look down on clouds and little matchstick houses, and had come pretty close to crying when his father had decided to travel by car instead so he could take his weapons.

Now, though, Dean was glad they hadn't gone on the plane. He never wanted to go on a plane again, or read comics about flying, or even play at flying with Sammy, because this had to be the scariest thing he'd experienced since the fire.

He wasn't struggling to get free now; instead, he was holding very tight, clinging to the snowman's hand. He knew that looking down was a mistake, but he couldn't stop himself. The ground was falling further and further away, dwindling beneath them; the motel was already out of sight, the whole frickin' town was vanishing, and they were soaring higher and higher, cold air burning in his lungs and hurting his ears.

The snowman cast a smug look at him.

Dean held on to both his temper and the snowman's hand for dear life. Kidnapped by Frosty. A _flying _Frosty. Once they got out of this, Dean planned to make it his personal mission in life to destroy every snowman he came across, no matter how many little kids cried. This was just _wrong_.

The snowman tilted, changing direction, and Dean caught sight of Sammy holding onto its other arm. Thankfully, his little brother had enough sense not to fight to get free at this point - Dean felt his blood run colder at that idea - and did not appear too panic-stricken. In fact, from what Dean could see from that angle, Sammy looked wide-eyed and fascinated.

"Look, Dean!" Sammy called across, pointing down with his free hand. "See the sea!"

Dean glanced down involuntarily at where Sammy was pointing and regretted it instantly. Sammy was right; they were now swooping low over the freaking ocean. And though Dean's grasp of geography was pretty much limited to roads - his father sometimes let him ride shotgun in the car and read the map for him - he was pretty certain they hadn't been staying anywhere near an ocean.

The snowman took them lower and lower, until Dean started to worry that it had grabbed them just so it could drop them in the sea. Then suddenly a massive tail came thumping out of the water, passing close enough to Dean's face to make him gasp in panic, choking on the stench of sea and salt. So, maybe to feed them to a sea monster, then. Awesome.

On the other side of the snowman, Sammy was laughing brightly, as if this was the greatest adventure ever. Dean tried not to yell in panic. If Sammy stood a chance of coming out of this without nightmares, all the better.

After a heart-stopping few moments they were soaring higher again, much to Dean's relief, and though the monster sent up a jet of water that splashed him ("It got you good, Dean!" Sammy caroled, giggling) it didn't look like it was going to get a chance to eat him, at least. Right now, Dean would take whatever kind of bright side he could find.

They flew on, high above the ocean now. Dean wondered whether Sammy would remember this when he was older. Dad had told him once, when Dean had asked why Sammy didn't remember Mommy and what had happened, that babies and little kids forgot things when they got older, and that was why Dean could barely remember anything from before he turned four. Sammy was only four. Maybe he'd forget all about it. Dean hoped so. Maybe, if Dean was _really_ lucky, he'd forget too.

Land appeared again ahead of them, but Dean wasn't reassured by the sight of icy mountains. He wasn't sure where the hell they were, but it was definitely way further away from Kansas than he was happy with.

Just when Dean thought things couldn't get any worse, the air was suddenly filled with a weird, unearthly singing, and strange, colored lights started flickering in the sky ahead of them.

"Pretty lights!" Sammy exclaimed. "Dean, look!"

"I see them, Sammy!" Dean called back, trying to keep his creeping panic out of his voice._ Magic_, he thought. He had to take several deep breaths and try to calm down and think logically. If it was magic, then that could explain the snowman. Maybe. It might mean there was someone controlling it. A wizard or magician or something. Their father had dealt with several of them in the past.

Magic-users were, at least, something familiar. Something that could be dealt with. It would definitely be a step up from a snowman randomly coming to life and kidnapping them.

Dean was so busy running through everything he knew about magic that he didn't notice right away when they started flying lower and lower. He snapped out of his thoughts only a couple of moments before they landed, and once they were back on solid ground (to his fervent relief) he stared around wildly.

The ground was covered with snow, thick and unmarked by any footprints. There was no sign of life in any direction: just a dark forest looming overhead in front of them, and snowy hills around them, the freaky magic lights in the sky reflecting off the snow.

Dean tugged hard, trying to free himself from the snowman's grip, and almost lost his balance when it simply let him go. He rushed around and pulled Sammy away from its other hand. Dean ignored the snowman for a moment and pulled Sammy into a hug, which Sammy returned tightly, although he seemed largely unworried.

"S'okay, Dean," Sammy said quietly. "I gotcha."

Dean swallowed hard and asked himself who was comforting who. "I know, Sammy. And I got you. We're gonna stick together, okay?"

"Okay," Sammy agreed.

Dean pulled back and turned his attention to the snowman. _Right_. So now he could try the holy water -

\- and wind up stranded here, lost, in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home.

The snowman _beamed_ at him, like it knew he'd just figured out they were trapped even though it had let them go, and then it turned and headed into the forest.

Dean looked around again, then took Sammy's hand and followed the snowman. It wasn't like they had many other options.

As it turned out, they only walked for a few minutes before the snowman stopped. Dean darted prudently out of reach behind a tree, pulling Sammy with him. He'd no illusions that they could hide from the snowman (they were both good at hiding, but the snow made it impossible), but it would find it much harder to catch them this time.

And the snowman seemed to decide that grabbing and dragging them with it was more trouble than it was worth, or perhaps it simply figured that they'd follow eventually of their own accord, since they'd nowhere else to go, because it stepped out of the tree line and into a clearing.

Dean counted to ten, then slipped out from behind the tree. Sammy moved with him, still holding his hand, and together they moved as quietly as they could to the edge of the treeline and peered out into the clearing.

It was full of snowmen.

Horrified, Dean started to count how many they were up against, but completely lost track when he spotted one with a particularly fugly party hat. Whoa. And was that one wearing a _skirt_? And an _apron_?

It shifted and he could see it was also wearing lipstick, and if he'd had any remaining doubts that something truly sinister was at work here, that would have settled them.

He stared, open-mouthed. There had to be dozens of snowmen (not to mention be-lipsticked snowwomen) out there. From all sorts of countries, judging by their outfits. Yeah, they were in real trouble here.

Then the crowd of snowmen parted and Dean saw the kid.

He had to be about Sammy's age, and he was clinging to the hand of a snowman in a huge, dumbass green hat and a ratty scarf. The kid had orange hair and was beaming around wide-eyed. Dean wanted to groan out loud and beat his head against the tree he and Sammy were hiding behind, because even if Sammy had thought flying was cool, he wasn't _stupid_. What kind of kid thought being kidnapped by Frosty the Snowman was an awesome adventure?

Normal people. _Honestly._

"Why's he just going along?" Sammy wondered aloud, though Dean was proud that he kept his voice down. His brother really _wasn't_ stupid.

"I guess no one ever told him you shouldn't go off with supernatural creatures," Dean whispered back. "He doesn't realize snowmen shouldn't do that."

"Not just snowmen," Sammy objected. "That one over there has a skirt on."

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Snowpeople? Snowcreatures?"

"Snowthings?" Sam suggested, face creased into a thoughtful frown.

"Snowbodies!" Dean announced, and Sammy started giggling so hard that Dean was almost worried the newly christened snowbodies would hear them.

"Snowbodies," Sammy exclaimed. "Like nobodies! 'N' bodies made of snow! Snowbodies!"

"That's right," Dean agreed. "Keep it down, though, Sammy, we don't want 'em to hear us."

The snowman and the kid were working their way through the crowd. Dean looked around carefully, but couldn't see any children. It was probably just as well, he thought. More kids like him and Sammy would be helpful, because they could take on the snowbodies together, but more kids like that one out there? They would probably try to _defend_ them.

And then the kid and its snowman reached the center of the crowd, and Dean and Sammy could see who was waiting for them there.

It was a jolly-looking fat man with a big white beard, dressed in red.

Dean pulled back sharply behind his tree, tugging Sammy back with him. He could feel his heart racing.

He could still remember vividly the conversation his dad had sat him down for, the first Christmas after Mom had been gone. He'd explained that Santa Claus was a myth. And that Dean needed to know that, because there were bad things out there, supernatural things, and Dean shouldn't trust them just because they looked like something he'd thought was good.

Dean had cried a little, but then Dad had helped him to build a mobile as a Christmas present for Sammy, and he'd got over it.

Now, though, he was finding it a little hard to breathe. It couldn't be Santa, it couldn't. Their Dad had _said _he wasn't real, and Dad wouldn't lie to him.

Which meant that this was something else trying to look like Santa.

"Dean?" Sammy whispered. "Gonna set fire to his beard again?"

Dean had gone through a phase, for a couple of years after his father had told him the truth about Santa, of believing the red-robed things he saw in shopping malls were supernatural creatures he had to defend his little brother and other kids from. There had been quite a few Incidents (mostly involving Dean taking on the evil Santa with whatever means he had to hand, resulting in screaming kids, a bellowing and singed Santa and general chaos) before his father had explained firmly that most of the 'Santa's were harmless, human old men dressing up to fool kids. And that if Dean could refrain from setting fire to them and dousing them with holy water, it would be greatly appreciated. After that, they'd mostly avoided shopping malls around Christmas.

"I only did that once," Dean said, a little defensively. "Well. I only set fire to the _beard_ once."

"Can I help this time?" Sammy asked plaintively.

Dean laughed suddenly. "Yeah, Sammy, you can help this time. This one's bad, not like the ones we see in shopping malls. We're allowed to deal with this one." He was remembering the lights and music as they'd flown over the icy mountains. Whoever this So-Called Santa really was, he (or possibly it) had some serious mojo going on. He didn't know why the magician or whatever was dressing up as Santa and bringing snowbodies to life, but as far as Dean was concerned, if it involved abducting Sammy (not to mention him) it couldn't be good.

There was a sudden flurry of movement out in the clearing. Dean and Sammy exchanged glances before peering out again cautiously.

The snowbodies were busy setting up tables, passing out drinks, and... taking up position with musical instruments.

Well, that pretty much settled the question of whether it was magic at work, because Dean was damn sure there hadn't been a piano there a moment ago. Or a big cello thingy, for that matter.

He was also pretty sure that snowbodies shouldn't really have any air to play a flute, especially since they apparently couldn't speak, but hey, he'd have said they shouldn't be able to fly either, so what did he know.

Now that the snowbodies were dispersing to party to the freaky-assed music, Dean could see a small hut a short distance past them and over to the right, and that looked like the place to start looking for answers. Getting over there might be a bit tricky, but the two of them had been trained in stealth.

"Come on, Sammy," he whispered. "Let's go break into their house."

"Cool," Sammy said enthusiastically, and followed him.

They stuck to the trees, using the available cover (Dad would be proud, if Dean ever planned on telling him about this, which he so didn't) until they could dash across to the hut from an angle where the snowbodies and So-Called Santa shouldn't be able to see them. Sammy almost slipped on the snow as they ran, but Dean caught his arm and Sammy recovered his balance. They reached the stone wall of the hut and leaned against it, looking around carefully.

"What now, Dean?" Sammy whispered. "Break in?"

"That's the plan," Dean agreed. "Let's see if there's a back way in." He led the way around to the back of the hut.

There was no door, or even a window. But there was a weird shape carved into the snow on the ground.

Dean and Sammy stopped short and stared at it. It was pretty big, wider than Dean was tall, he thought. It was kind of hard to tell without looking at it from above, but it seemed familiar. Dean moved away from the hut to get a better look, walking around it, careful to keep one hand on Sammy's shoulder to make sure he wouldn't touch it.

It was sort of a circle with weird squiggles in it, as far as he could tell. And he was almost certain he'd seen nearly identical squiggles before.

It had been back in Texas, not quite a year ago. There'd been a magician involved then, too. And some freaky-assed mud things that had come lumbering after him and Sammy as they'd crouched in the car. Dean had made Sammy stay low, but he'd been peering through the windows when the mud things had just collapsed and crumbled away, and he'd known Dad had found and destroyed the squiggly sigil he'd showed Dean a drawing earlier.

"You 'member those mud things in Texas, Sammy? I think that's what this is for, too. Golems, Dad called them."

"Golems," Sammy echoed, evidently imprinting the word in his memory. "So these are snow golems? Maybe we should call them snowlems 'stead of snowbodies, then."

Dean cracked up. "Snowlems it is. Good going, Sammy. Didn't know they could be made of snow, but hey, we've seen weirder things."

"Snowlems," Sammy said with obvious satisfaction, grinning up at Dean. "How we gonna stop them?"

"Dad stopped the mud golems by messing up that pattern," Dean said, nodding to it. "We -"

"Can I do it?" Sammy asked eagerly, already in mid-bounce at the thought.

Dean grabbed him more firmly. "Whoa, whoa! Not yet, Sammy, okay? We gotta figure out what exactly's going on here first." He didn't add that messing up the sigil would leave them stranded in a clearing in the middle of nowhere, at the mercy of a magician dressed up like Santa, with no clue how to get back to the motel. "Let's get inside the hut and see what's in there, okay?"

When they shuffled along the side of the hut and peered around the corner, they could see that the snowlems were all distracted. They were _dancing_.

"Woah," Sammy whispered, staring.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, equally mesmerized by the sight. "Dude, I think this might be the weirdest thing we've ever seen. Like, ever." Which was saying something.

Sammy nodded his agreement, clearly unable to tear his eyes away.

Dean was tempted to stand there and stare for a while, but just then he heard the little kid they'd seen before laughing happily and realized that the boy was dancing with the snowlems. It was a reminder that they couldn't afford to waste time.

"Come on," he whispered. "They're busy, they won't see us if we move now."

They slipped around the corner together, keeping close against the wall. Dean pulled open the door just wide enough for them to creep inside. Then they closed the door behind them, flattening themselves against it while they stared around.

There were two... well, they _looked_ like reindeer, though the way things were going here Dean wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be mice really, like in that Cinderella story Sammy liked, or possibly hellhounds or something. They were in pens over on the left side of the hut, and although they snorted and shuffled a bit, Dean heaved a sigh of relief at the fact that they evidently couldn't, or weren't about to, break out and attack them.

"No red nose," Sammy pointed out. "No Rudolph."

Dean nodded. The magician had slipped up there. And although he'd already been certain that this wasn't the grotto of a real Santa Claus, a little confirmation was still good.

On the right-hand side of the hut there was a sleigh with presents stacked in it.

Dean walked across and examined them more closely. Sammy followed, glancing up every so often to keep an eye on the 'reindeer'. There were probably about as many presents as there were snowlems outside, Dean guessed, counting quickly. One label caught his eye and he felt his stomach drop.

_Samuel Winchester_

Dean grimaced, and was about to try to hide it beneath the others, but Sammy glanced over at exactly the wrong moment and his eyes grew very wide.

"For me?"

Dean groaned silently and wished that Sammy hadn't learned to recognize his own name yet. "I think these parcels are for the people who built the snowlems, Sammy. I think the magician made them."

Sammy's face fell, but he tried to smile bravely. "Trap."

"Yeah, I think so," Dean was forced to agree. "Sorry, Sammy. There'll be proper presents when Dad gets back tomorrow, though, okay?"

Sammy nodded and smiled more happily. "Okay. Is the magician gonna fly around pretendin' to be Santa?"

Dean cast a dubious glance at the sleigh, and then at the 'reindeer'. "I dunno. It doesn't look very flyable to me. I think maybe he's gonna get the snowlems to take the parcels back to these kids' houses, slip them in with the presents from their families. Most people don't have salt lines like us, you know. They're _expecting_ someone to break in with parcels on Christmas Eve anyway, aren't they? Would be easy."

His little brother stared at the parcels. "They wouldn't notice?"

"They're not all as smart as you, Sammy," Dean told him. He might not be able to give Sammy the parcel, but he could give him that. "They don't know better than to accept things without knowing where they come from."

_Don't accept anything they offer you, because that gives them power over you_. Dad had taught them a lot of lessons, and Dean was glad of it now. The thought of Sammy taking that present and being controlled by the magician was a scary one.

Sammy beamed at the compliment, his momentary disappointment about the parcel forgotten. "We gotta stop him, Dean, if the others won't know. Can't let him control them."

"We're gonna stop him," Dean assured him, sounding more confident than he felt. "We just gotta figure out how."

There was a sudden creaking sound as the door opened, and Dean hastily pulled Sammy down with him to hide behind the sleigh.

It was So-Called Santa, complete with the clueless, carrot-haired kid and the snowlem he had been dancing with before. Dean peered over the back of the sleigh as the kid exclaimed over the 'reindeer' and patted them. He winced and waited to see if they would bite the kid's hand off, but either they really were as harmless as they appeared or they knew better than to give the game away, because the kid survived intact.

So-Called Santa turned towards the sleigh and Dean ducked as fast as he could, holding Sammy's gaze and silently urging him to stay completely still. They listened as the magician selected one of the parcels and passed it to the kid. A few moments later, Dean risked a glance around the side of the sleigh, and winced again as he saw the kid drop the wrapping paper to the ground and beam at the scarf that had been inside.

Dean stared at the snowlem pattern on it and felt sick.

Sammy tugged urgently on his sleeve, looking frantic. Dean knew what he was thinking - _we can't just let this happen_ \- and gestured for Sammy to wait. They had to pick the right moment.

The present having exchanged hands, the snowlem at the door beckoned urgently to the kid, who hugged the magician once more and then went with the snowlem. Dean panicked at the thought of the kid going back home with that scarf. They couldn't afford to wait for the right moment now.

He signalled frantically for Sammy to stay where he was and then jumped out from behind the sleigh, but it was too late - outside the door he could see the snowlem taking off already, the kid clinging to one hand. The magician was standing in the doorway and turning towards Dean.

Dean had only a moment to act. So he snatched up a present that felt reasonably heavy and jumped at the magician.

Fortunately, So-Called Santa wasn't a great deal taller than Dean, and freaky magical powers or not, Dean couldn't help thinking that Sammy was a better fighter. Dean managed to knock the magician to the ground after only a few moments of struggling, and Sammy jumped forward to help pin him down. Dean hit him hard on the head with the parcel, and the magician collapsed, head lolling to one side.

"Nice work, Sammy," Dean said, patting his brother on the shoulder and glancing around for something to tie the magician up with.

The rope hanging on the wall - presumably for the 'reindeer' - made him grin, and he set to work.

Dean knew a thing or seven about knots. The trickiest part was dragging the magician across to the sleigh; tying him up to it was a cinch.

"Keep an eye on him for a minute," Dean instructed Sammy. "I want to check that the snowlems are still distracted."

He peered carefully around the door. The snowlem party still appeared to be in full swing, complete with freaky music and dancing. After staring for a few minutes, Dean was satisfied that none of them were about to come and attack them any time soon, and turned back to the magician.

Sammy had not been idle during his absence, Dean noted with bemusement. He'd dug out a huge length of ribbon that had presumably been intended for wrapping presents, and had wound it around and around So-Called Santa, tying tight, careful knots. Dean couldn't help it - he burst out laughing at the sight, and Sammy beamed and tied a final knot.

Dean bent down to check the knots and was impressed. His little brother was starting to get real good at them. "Way to go, kiddo."

Sammy giggled and waved a shiny red Christmas bow, the kind normally stuck on top of parcels, before sticking it solemnly to the top of the magician's bald head. "There! Done."

Dean laughed again and high-fived him. Damn, he loved his brother.

He debated what their next move should be, and after a moment dug out his bottle of holy water and sprinkled it on the magician, chanting in Latin quietly under his breath. Best to make sure that So-Called Santa was definitely human.

The magician groaned and Dean and Sammy both stiffened, but from the look on the magician's face, it was caused by pain from the knock on his head, not the holy water.

"So what's the deal with the parcels?" Dean demanded boldly, before So-Called Santa could get his wits back. "What do you want power over kids for?"

The magician groaned again and then squinted up at them. "What the hell?"

"Santa wouldn't swear," Sammy said smugly, as if that settled everything.

"Why are you pretending to be Santa?" Dean tried again.

The magician didn't look happy. "Release me _immediately_, or -"

Dean really didn't need to hear the end of that threat. "Okay, then how do you use the presents? There has to be something that lets you use that power."

The magician's gaze flickered to the crumpled wrapping paper and label on the floor where the kid had unwrapped his scarf. He looked away again immediately, scowling at Dean, but it was too late - Dean noticed things like that.

The label. If the snowlems were to take the labels off before they took the presents to the kids' houses... Maybe the magician could use the labels? Dean didn't know too much about using magic to control people, but it was as good a theory as he was likely to get.

He pulled the lighter out of his pocket and crossed to the pile of discarded wrapping paper. "Keep an eye on him, Sammy."

"Wait," the magician said frantically.

Dean flicked on the lighter and smiled at the flame.

"No, wait, don't! All my work -"

Dean set the whole pile on fire and stepped back, nodding in satisfaction when the fire took on a weird greenish tinge as it licked around the label. It looked like he'd guessed right. It only took a minute or two for the whole pile to be reduced to ashes on the stone floor, and Dean kicked them a couple of times before going back to where Sammy was standing, grinning, over the magician, who was still cursing and issuing threats.

He didn't look or sound all that much like Santa now.

"Right," Dean said. "Now for the rest of them."

It didn't take the two of them long to carry the parcels outside and pile them up around the back of the hut. Dean was careful to make sure that he carried the parcel labeled to Sammy, just in case Sammy lifting it was enough to trigger the spell, and Sammy solemnly carried the one addressed to Dean. The amount of wrapping paper in the pile meant that it caught alight pretty easily, and Dean and Sammy exchanged grins.

Which just left the snowlems to deal with. And the rather crucial issue of how to get back to the motel.

"Dean?"

Dean stiffened at the wheedling tone of Sammy's voice, because it never boded well. "What?"

"Can we fly back with the sleigh? With the reindeer?"

Dean almost choked. "Ah, Sammy, I don't think it can really fly. Or he probably wouldn't have needed the snowlems."

Sammy looked disappointed. "Would have been cool."

"Yeah," Dean agreed half-heartedly. "Cool." He tried to imagine their father's face as they landed beside the Impala in the parking lot in a reindeer-drawn sleigh, and then tried not to. "I'm thinking we should make the snowlem take us back, since it brought us in the first place."

Sammy frowned. "But..." He pointed at the sigil.

Dean stared at it. "Yeah, we gotta find a way to destroy it. We don't want all the snowlems flying back to the kids, even without the parcels."

"Can we jump on it now?" Sammy asked eagerly.

"No!" Dean said, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "No, Sammy. I dunno what it might do to us if we did."

He rifled through his pockets again and pulled out the bag of rock salt, then held it up for his brother's approval. "Hey, Sammy?"

Sammy _beamed_.

Ah, rock salt. Good for melting snow _and _banishing evil. Dean figured it was a plan.

He passed half of the rock salt to his brother, and together they scattered it carefully across the pattern.

Dean didn't mention to Sammy his concern that the pattern might melt through before they got back to the motel. There was no need for both of them to worry. Besides, it would take a little while to melt through. They ought to have time. He hoped.

"Ready to get outta here, Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sammy agreed. "Gotta get back before Dad comes home."

Dean swallowed hard. Amidst snowlems and evil Santas he'd almost forgotten the real danger they were facing. If Dad got back to the motel before they did, they'd be in _real_ trouble.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's go find our snowlem."

They didn't have far to look. When they went back inside the hut to check on the magician, they found their snowlem trying to untie him. But its large, rough-formed hands were no good at undoing the tight, tangled knots that Sammy had made with the wrapping ribbons.

Dean kept a tight hold on his lighter, and saw Sammy clutching to a last handful of rock salt beside him. "Hey, Frosty. We're about ready to head home now."

The magician scowled at him, then nodded to the snowlem. "Get them the hell out of here. Send one of the others in to help me get out of these ropes."

Dean grinned. He had a feeling it would take the magician quite a while to get free. Particularly if all his snowlems melted away in the middle of trying to help him.

The snowlem grabbed Dean's left wrist and Sammy's right and started towards the trees, pulling them along.

"No funny business," Dean warned, clutching the lighter tightly in his other hand. "Straight back to the motel, fast as you can. Or you'll get this lighter where it hurts. And my little brother still has some rock salt there, and believe me, he's got good aim."

The snowlem's mouth was set in a thin line as they soared into the air again.

The flight back was, if anything, even more harrowing than their earlier journey, since Dean was worried the snowlem might melt away in mid-air. But the flight did at least pass quickly; Dean was pretty certain the snowlem was flying much faster than it had earlier. It clearly wanted rid of them, and Dean was just fine with that. The feeling was entirely mutual.

When the motel came into sight, Dean heaved a huge sigh of relief. And then another when he realized the Impala wasn't waiting for them in the parking lot. They were safe.

The snowlem landed hard and released them both abruptly. Dean stumbled slightly, but caught his balance, and moved across to grab Sammy's hand.

The snowlem stalked away and resumed the position it had been in when they built it.

Dean and Sammy exchanged glances.

"Let's watch it from inside," Dean said finally.

The motel room was warm after the frozen air they had flown through. Dean locked the door and double-checked the salt lines. Then he joined Sammy in front of the window to keep an eye on the snowlem.

"Dean?" Sammy said sleepily, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean asked. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder to help keep him warm.

"Can we just make a snow Impala next year instead?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, Sammy. Let's do that."

The snowlem melted away mysteriously shortly before daybreak, despite the fact that all the surrounding snow was as frozen as ever. Dean grinned, and tucked Sammy into bed.

He even had time to sneak out and steal back his hat and scarf before their father returned.


End file.
